It Takes Two
by karinarios
Summary: An evening patrol, a strange girl, a stern grandfather – the makings of Tezuka Kunimitsu’s first love.
1. Prologue: 10

**It Takes Two**

by beaple leone michaelmas

**Summary:**

An evening patrol, a strange girl, a stern grandfather – the makings of Tezuka Kunimitsu's first love.

**Prologue: 10**

**A/N:**

Hello, 2010! ::D

**Disclaimer: **

I don't own _Prince of Tennis_; the whole concept belongs to Takeshi Konomi-sensei.

**Prologue: 10**

"I need some help here!"

The boy with light brown hair and glinting glasses stared at a nurse speeding by, her arms splattered with dark red blood. Eyes wide and watchful, he scanned the room for his grandfather, walking past bodies covered with bloodied white blankets, trying to stay as unobtrusive as possible.

After a mass shootout in a concert hall in Ginza, the emergency room of Mizuide General Hospital was packed and frenzied, handling twenty one patients – seven of them dead, the rest badly injured. [1] Kunimitsu, who often tagged along in his grandfather's rounds, once wished something exciting would happen while he was on patrol. Tonight, in the midst of so much pain and despair, he regretted his silent prayer, and realized it had been made very selfishly…

A slight movement on the left caught his eye. Through a gap in the curtains covering one of the hospital beds, a small, pale hand was reaching out, frail fingers stretched forward as though grasping something. Seeing that everyone else was busy, Kunimitsu strode forward with long, determined strides. This, he told himself, was his role to play in this emergency situation; even at a young age, he felt terribly guilty and largely responsible for tonight's tragedy…

"Mama-"

Kunimitsu froze as he heard a soft voice, a girl's voice, calling out for her mother. To his horror, the hand suddenly fell to the side of the bed, limp and lifeless.

His voice caught on his throat as he tried to scream. Had the girl died – right before his eyes?! Then, suddenly, he heard the sound of muffled sobbing, faint amidst the noise of the ER. As he realized it was coming from behind the curtains, he sighed inwardly.

She was still alive.

Unable to think of any other way to help, Kunimitsu reached out for the frail hand. Alarmed at the sudden touch, the hand pulled away, a heavy voice calling out, "Who's there?"

"I-I didn't mean to scare you," he said, stuttering uncharacteristically. Clearing his throat, he added, "You seemed like you could use a little help."

There was a pause; the girl seemed to be considering his statement.

"You can't help me," she said after a while. "Nobody can…"

This intrigued Kunimitsu.

"My grandfather says there are two kinds of pain," he said abruptly, surprising himself. "There's the physical, and there's the emotional. If you're in physical pain, if your body hurts, I can get you a doctor. But if you're in emotional pain - that is, if your heart hurts, so badly that it's as if it's wounded – I can… listen to you if you want-"

"You talk a lot, don't you?"

That shut Kunimitsu up. It was strange that she thought that when everyone else said otherwise.

"I only want to help-"

"You _can't_ bring Mama back to life!" the little girl cried, pounding the side of the bed with her clenched fist. "You _can't_ bring her back – no one can, _nothing_ can!"

Kunimitsu stared, his lips parting slightly.

"I-I'm sorry… I didn't know-"

He stopped talking at the sound of renewed sobs.

Feeling helpless, he turned to look at the hand again – her nails had dug into her palms so deeply, so forcefully that Kunimitsu thought she would bleed. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out for her hand again, his fingers trembling slightly.

As his small, pale hand closed upon the little girl's, she stiffened visibly. But she did not pull away.

Feeling thankful but worried, Kunimitsu concluded that it was the girl's heart that hurt; he immediately tried to come up with a way to make her happy – even just for the moment. Suddenly, he remembered what that song from his favorite movie advised: to be happy, one must think of one's favorite things. [2]

Kunimitsu frowned slightly; he didn't know what her favorite things were! But then… maybe… he could talk about his favorite things instead? Maybe they would make her happy, too?

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find something to talk about. What made him happiest? What made him feel thankful to be alive? What made his senses sing? It was simple, really-

"Do you play tennis?"

The girl sniffed loudly, coughing.

"Tennis?"

"Yeah… tennis," Kunimitsu said, relieved that he had made her stop crying – for the moment. "It's the best game in the world. Even better than soccer, or, or, basketball, or, um, uh-"

"I don't play sports," she replied sulkily. "I especially don't like ball games. I don't see the point of chasing a tiny ball around the court, and I don't like how people fight over it."

"Oh. That's… sad."

"You don't know what it feels to be sad-"

Kunimitsu winced. He had reminded her…

"I… like tennis because it makes me feel alive," he said, attempting to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "When I play tennis, I can hear the wind as clearly as if I was by the sea, and… the world seems perfect when I'm on the court…"

"Is that why you play? It's the excitement you're after?"

"Maybe…" Kunimitsu said noncommittally, a bit puzzled himself; no one had ever asked him that before. "I think… I also like it when my friends cheer for me. I like playing with them… So maybe I play for them, too…"

"You don't sound too sure," the girl observed, voice thick. "My sensei says you should always know what you're playing for. If you don't, you'll never play seriously. And if you don't play seriously, you'll never improve, and you'll never get anywhere…"

"You said you didn't play sports-"

"I play the piano," the girl replied softly, almost whispering. "I've been playing it since I was five…"

"Why do you play the piano then?"

"Because I love the piano," she answered simply. "I love its sound. I love making music. And I'm good at it, too… My mother always said I was going to become a famous pianist someday. She said I had large hands and long fingers, so it was okay…"

She sounded odd as she said that. Worried, Kunimitsu strained to hear if she had started crying again; he was surprised, but pleased, to discover that she was not. Feeling strangely happy, he upturned both their hands, holding her palm up to his eye.

"Yeah… they are long," he said, inspecting her fingers with his own. "Thin, too… But your hands aren't big at all. They look tiny, in fact…"

"That's only because we're still kids," she chided. "You really don't use your head, do you?"

"Well, yes, but when you compare your hand with mine…"

He raised their hands, the palms facing each other. As he had expected, his fingers were significantly longer than hers.

"See?" he said simply. [3]

Silence. Then-

"_Baka!_"

She pulled her hand so far back, so suddenly, that in her haste, she widened the gap in her curtains. Gasping almost inaudibly, his mouth falling open in shock, Kunimitsu found himself staring straight into the bright green eyes of an extremely pretty girl with dark brown hair. For a moment, he found himself unable to speak.

"Y-you… have green eyes."

The girl seemed to be in shock as well. At Kunimitsu's words, she began to blink rapidly, her cheeks reddening.

"W-well, duh-!"

"There you are," a familiar voice suddenly called out, making both children turn their heads. Tezuka Kunikazu stood before his grandson, a relieved look on his usually stern face. "It's time for you to go home. Come on."

"But grandpa-"

"No complaints," said his grandfather, assuming his normal, authoritative air. "We're leaving now-"

Kunimitsu looked worriedly at the girl.

"I'm sorry, I have to go now," he said, slightly panicking – again, very unlike him. "I hope you're feeling much better. Sorry…"

With a deep bow, he turned to leave. Then a hand suddenly closed upon his wrist.

She was looking at him again; her eyes really were too distracting.

"Wait, at least tell me your name-"

"Mitsu! Do I have to tell you twice-?"

"Sorry, Ojiisan-!"

Very, very distractedly – What was happening to him? Why was his heart pounding so fast? He only felt this way when he was playing tennis… What was happening?! – Kunimitsu ran after his grandfather, who was waiting for him with an inscrutable expression.

"I heard you got hurt," Tezuka Kunikazu said gruffly but not unkindly, his hand on his grandson's shoulder as they briskly walked across the ER. "What happened?"

"Nothing~"

"Tezuka Kunimitsu!"

"I sprained my wrist trying to help one of the victims," he admitted, lifting his left sleeve to show his bandages. "I tried to help him onto a wheelchair, but he accidentally leaned on my arm. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't been so heavy…"

Momentarily taken aback, his grandfather smiled briefly and ruffled his hair.

"It seems I can't scold you for this particular injury," he said. "But I wish you'd take better care of yourself. You do know that if anything bad happens to you, you may never play tennis again?"

Kunimitsu smiled.

"It will heal in time," he said, fixing his sleeve, thinking about a girl with very deep, very green eyes.

_It will heal in time. _

**A/N:**

Thanks for reading! Please check out Part 2!

Written December 31. Turn of the year! ::D

**Revenge of the Footnotes:**

[1] _Mizuide General. _Does not exist as far as I know.

[2] _That song from his favorite movie_. My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music.

[3] _Palms up. _Inspired by the La Corda d'Oro manga.


	2. Epilogue: 20

**It Takes Two**

by beaple leone michaelmas

**Summary:**

An evening patrol, a strange girl, a stern grandfather – the makings of Tezuka Kunimitsu's first love.

**Epilogue: 20**

**A/N:**

Hello, 2010! ::D

**Disclaimer: **

I don't own _Prince of Tennis_; the whole concept belongs to Konomi Takeshi-sensei.

**Epilogue: 20**

Lisa Mitchell stared at her slightly trembling hand, a deep flush creeping up her neck. It had been ten years since she had felt that touch – those fingers that made her feel as though everything in the world was all right, that she was safe…

"I can't believe your stepmother!" her best friend Sakurako was saying, wiping her hands with a handkerchief. "What was she thinking trying to organize a rotating tango? Doesn't she know it's reaaally hard to dance that thing, let alone with changing partners? Ahhhh, Aunt Karina is driving me crazy!"

Sakurako sighed, then, frowned as she saw the stunned expression on Lisa's face.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Say, Saku," Lisa said, regaining a portion of her senses and allowing her hand to fall. "You remember that guy with shiny glasses? Really tall, thick light brown hair, calculating gaze, stern aura…"

"Ah, Tezuka Kunimitsu?" Sakurako supplied, slightly surprised. "The tennis player?"

_Tennis._

"Tezuka… Kunimitsu?"

"Yeah…" Sakurako answered, frowning slightly. "Where have you been this past month? The guy's on the cover of every sports magazine in the country- Wait don't answer that; you were in Boston-"

"He's famous?"

"He _should _be famous. He won the US Open, after all. Placed well in Wimbledon, too…"

Lisa scanned the room for the man. Although she didn't know what she would say to him, and she didn't even know if he remembered, she wanted to talk to him again, to properly thank him, and apologize, and-

"You _like_ him, don't you?" Sakurako teased, poking her best friend who was still scanning the crowded ball room desperately. "Well… I have to admit he's hot – most tennis players are; it's probably the running-around-under-the-sun thing – but don't you think he's a bit too… quiet?"

"Surely not…"

"Come on, Lisa! Just with one look, you can tell he's doesn't talk. If you date him, you'd probably run out of things to say-"

Sakurako stopped, noticing that her friend had begun to walk away.

"Lisa Mitchell! Where are you going?"

With a determined expression, Lisa walked across the room, bumping into a few people and muttering a couple of distracted apologies, finally halting before a man in a crisp white tuxedo.

"Dad," she said, tugging at her father's sleeve. "Dad, didn't you say you invited those kids you play tennis with? Could you introduce me to them?"

Ross Mitchell turned away from the buffet table, a plate of sushi on his hand, a frown on his face.

"Lisa, what's wrong? You look flustered-"

"Dad, please?" Lisa begged in a whiny, childish voice she hadn't used in almost a decade. "Please, please, please, Daddy?"

"Well, yes, all right, darling. Come here-"

Putting his plate down and taking his daughter's hand, they walked through the dense crowd, considerably slower this time because Ross paused every few meters to converse with someone. Finally, Lisa saw a likely group up ahead: several tanned, young men, laughing and chatting animatedly. They certainly fit her father's description of the kind teenagers he had made friends with over a couple of chance tennis matches – but she couldn't find him there.

Where was he? Tezuka Kunimitsu?

"Echizen, you _have _to become taller this year-"

"Yeah, Echizen, you haven't grown an inch since Seigaku-"

"I wouldn't say that. See, he's up to your shoulder now-"

"Mr. Mitchell," an irritated, rather short young man with shrewd eyes and dark hair greeted, seeing Lisa and her father approaching. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Echizen, everyone," Ross replied warmly. "Are you having fun so far?"

"Very much, Mitchell-san," said a man with spiked black hair. "Thanks for inviting us."

"Yeah, Mitchell-san, you really _do _throw great parties," a guy with longish red hair piped up. "That rotating tango was out of this world!"

"Yes, yes, trust my wife to come up with something like that," Ross agreed, laughing. "Oh, I'd like you to meet my only daughter, Lisa." She bowed slightly as the men bowed back. "She's home for the holidays. Darling, these are the guys I told you about; they've made my game much better-"

"Mitchell-san, that's too much-"

"Fuji Shusuke!" said Sakurako suddenly, popping up beside Lisa. "You're here, too! I'm a fan of yours – that game against Klein? Mind-blowing, honestly."

"Aaah, thank you, Miss…"

"Sakurako," she answered, holding out her hand. "Beika Sakurako."

As a small-eyed man with hair falling across his face shook hands with her best friend, Lisa heard her father ask the question that had been playing on her lips.

"But where is Tezuka-kun?"

"He said he was going to look for someone. I'm sure he's still somewhere around here though-"

"Lisa, where are you going?" Ross asked as his daughter turned on her heel at Echizen's words. "Lisa?"

"Don't mind her, Mitchell-san," Sakurako said, sneaking a wink at her best friend. "She's probably just seen that suitor she's running away from…"

As Ross and the young men turned their attention to Sakurako, who began narrating an exaggerated version of Lisa's _love life_, Lisa walked across the room again, searching for _him_. But there were too many faces, too many gowns and suits, too many sparkling objects and unnecessary adornments in this room that she couldn't find him, wherever she looked.

"Lisa, dear," an eerily familiar, high-pitched voice suddenly said from behind her. "I've been looking everywhere for you all evening."

"Hans, _stay away-"_

As Lisa turned to berate her admirer – or _stalker _as Sakurako liked to call him – she caught sight of a tall man standing behind Hans, in the middle of the ball room, looking at her through his glinting glasses.

She should have known… That aura she once thought to be austerity, that aura she now realized was refinement… It made him stand out anywhere.

"Lisa, what are you-"

Without a word, Lisa stepped past Hans, just as _he_ stepped forward, closer to her. Holding her breath, she walked closer, and closer, until finally, they were merely an arm's length from each other.

He was looking straight into her eyes, unblinking.

"My name is Tezuka Kunimitsu," he said, voice much, much deeper than ten years ago.

She could feel her face reddening.

"I'm-"

"Lisa Mitchell."

"How did you-?"

"I watched your concert in Germany," he said. "It was very good."

"You never called," she accused, frowning. "Or wrote, or emailed, or, or-"

"I didn't think you'd remember."

Although she rarely smiled, this time she let herself grin freely, feeling like an idiot but loving it.

"How could I forget?"

The orchestra had started a new song; Elgar's _Salut d'Amour_. [1] Suddenly conscious of the stares they were receiving, standing in the middle of the now abandoned dance floor, Tezuka and Lisa flustered visibly. From the corner of her eye, Lisa saw her best friend and her father, the latter looking confused but smiling knowingly at his daughter, the former giving her a mischievous 'thumbs up'. Tezuka's tennis friends, too, were looking at the pair of them, most, if not all of them, wearing expressions of utter shock.

As Tezuka turned to look at his peers, Lisa saw Fuji Shusuke's expression change. Suddenly, his eyes fell on Lisa, and widened in realization. Apparently understanding the situation completely, Fuji smiled and gave his friend a small nod. Confused, Lisa turned to Tezuka.

He was looking at her again; his gaze really was too distracting.

"Do you dance?" he asked, stretching out his hand. Gazing down at it, Lisa could feel herself smiling again – _grinning like an idiot, more like_. Feeling happier than she had in years, she slowly reached out… taking his warm, surprisingly soft hand.

Maybe she'd try tennis someday…

**A/N:**

Happy New Year! ::D

Written 1 January 2010!

**Revenge of the Footnotes:**

[1] _Salut d'Amour. _French, Love Greeting. Listen to my favorite version at: .com/watch?v=_fQzkUnc8rE


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